


Three Circles of Hell

by Katuary



Series: Thunder and Lightning [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Canonical Character Death, Dragon Age II - Legacy DLC, F/M, Family Drama, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Death, Post-Dragon Age II Quest - All That Remains, Psychological Drama, Psychological Trauma, Self-Hatred, Warrior Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: Hawke knows she has never been enough where it counted. The wrong skill, the wrong position, the wrong decision. It shouldn’t surprise her that she continues to fail.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Series: Thunder and Lightning [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477754
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Too Slow

**Author's Note:**

> I have a very specific quest order for my canon Hawke. Suffice it to say the ending days of Act 2 are _brutal._

Hawke drifted upstairs, mind numb from her conversation with Gamlen. He blamed her for her mother’s death just as she blamed herself. It made sense. She _should_ have been faster. Should have kept a better eye on her. Should have shown more interest in her mother’s mysterious “courtship.”

At least Gamlen had promised to tell Bethany. Hawke was unsure she had the heart to be blamed any further. She was supposed to _protect_ her. Protect them both. She had failed her family a fourth time.

_And you’ll be all alone._

She sat heavily on the bed, twisting her hands in her lap.

It didn’t feel real. Just that morning, she’d chastised her for letting Maric drag mud into the house. Had she said goodbye before she left? Told her she loved her? Hugged her?

Hawke hadn’t been home much in recent weeks, other than to sleep. Kirkwall dragged her in fifteen different directions at once, and her mother had her teas and parlors to attend. They had never been close. Or rather, Hawke had always been sharply aware she wasn’t her mother’s favorite child. 

Even so, Leandra had made more of an effort since their latest fight. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. Warmer. She occasionally felt like the child in their relationship for once...for the first time since Father had died.

She had made an effort to spend more time with Hawke. Even on mornings when Hawke was too exhausted to drag herself from her bed before noon, her mother would be waiting in the dining room with a fresh pot of tea. They never spoke of anything serious, knowing they would likely butt heads again, but the consideration alone was a welcome change. Hawke tried not to miss those mornings unless there was an emergency, but those emergencies came up far too often.

Leandra never accepted her apologies for skipping a day. She would wave them off and affectionately joke that acting as head of their household was a full-time job.

Perhaps she hadn’t realized just how much of her time was spent on...less than legal endeavors. Perhaps she chose to remain purposefully ignorant. Perhaps that was for the best.

At any rate, if she hadn’t seen her before she retired for the night, Leandra left notes where Hawke would find them.

_“I’m proud of you. Love, Mother”_

Had she once told her how much those notes meant? How they brought a smile to her face at the end of a long day?

She should have said something. Written back. Done more than _work_. Her mother had only wanted her to be happy.

Footsteps on the stairs broke her concentration, and she jerked her head up to meet Anders’ heartbroken face. Broken on her behalf, when he should know better. She deserved every scrap of pain she felt. All her father had asked was that she take care of their family, and she had failed each one of them in turn.

“I know nothing I say will change it,” Anders said softly, “I just...I’m sorry.” He lingered in the doorway, searching her face and expecting, perhaps, that she would want him to leave. “You were lucky to have her as long as you did. When the pain fades, that’s what will matter.”

She turned away from him and stared bleakly into the fire. “I didn’t try hard enough to save her.”

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

_How could you let him charge off like that? Your little brother? My little boy..._

“You don’t know my mother.”

“No. And I’m sorry I never will.”

Had her mother ever invited him to tea as she'd promised? The offer, or perhaps she’d meant it as a threat, had seemed genuine at the time. Maybe she had never had the chance to ask Anders directly. Maybe he'd been too busy to take her up on the invitation. Whatever the case, it was useless debating now.

Hawke’s fragile calm shattered when he joined her on the bed. Her teeth clenched and she forced her eyes shut against tears. Anders’ hand on hers stilled her.

“I’m here for you,” he reminded her gently, lacing his fingers with hers, “Whatever you need.”

She needed her family...what remained of it. She needed Bethany. She needed _him_.

She buried her face in his shoulder and fisted his coat in her free hand. He immediately drew her into his lap as she begged him, “Stay with me.”

He didn’t remind her that he lived there. He simply pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head and held her closer. “Of course.”

Her breath hitched on a sob and she finally broke. She wept until her throat felt swollen shut and her fingers grew stiff from anchoring herself to him.

Gray dawn tinted the room and the fire burned down to embers by the time she calmed.

“You should sleep,” he murmured, still rubbing tireless circles between her shoulders.

She swallowed thickly and shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Do you want my help?”

“I...” It was ridiculous. She needed to sleep eventually. “Anders, I don’t want to...dream about her. That way. Looking like...I _can’t_...”

He held her closer as a fresh sob choked her words. “No dreams, love,” he said softly, “I promise.”

She didn’t deserve relief, but she hadn’t the strength to refuse it. She nodded her permission and let him lay down with her. She curled up against him, resting her head on his chest and breathing in his familiar scent. He tugged the blankets over them before resting cool fingers at her temple.

“I’ll be right here when you wake.”

All tension eased from her body and, finally, she could rest.

* * *

The sun had begun to set again by the time she woke, darkening the room and thoroughly disorienting her. She forgot, for a brief, merciful moment, what had happened. Then she felt the roughness of Anders’ coat beneath her numb fingers and remembered. She swallowed hard, the ghost of a sob rising in her throat.

“I’m here, love,” he murmured, trailing gentle fingers down her spine, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He had stayed. Spent an entire day away from his clinic to watch over her. A fresh wave of guilt swelled in her chest, but she couldn’t find the strength to object. She _needed_ this.

She didn’t trust her voice. She simply nodded and shifted closer to him.

One day. One day to collect herself, then she needed to make...arrangements. Mother would have wanted a service in the chantry, at the very least. She would have preferred her ashes be laid to rest alongside Carver and Father, but that was impossible. Even if Hawke found the time to bring her urn back to Ferelden, she doubted anyone had cremated her brother. And if they had, they wouldn’t know where he belonged.

Perhaps they were together in the Fade now. Even if she didn’t believe that, it was easier to think they were there and happier. Watching over Bethany.

”Messere?”

Anders answered before she could, “She’s resting, Bodahn.” Hawke heard the slightest tinge of Justice in his voice. Was the spirit truly so concerned for her?

“There is a letter from the Circle. The messenger claimed it was urgent.”

Cold terror froze her in place. _Beth_.

She couldn’t wait. She couldn’t _lose_ anyone else. Hawke scrambled desperately out of bed, striding immediately to the armor stand in the corner.

She distantly heard Anders swear behind her as she rushed through stripping off her robe and haphazardly buckling her armor.

”My _sword_ ,” she muttered, pacing to the wardrobe with a greave loosely clattering against her boot, “Where did I leave that damned sword?”

”Love, slow down. _Please_. Let me help...” Anders knelt to secure the stubborn greave. 

Shattered glass. A short whistle. A dull thud.

Hawke briefly failed to register the crossbow bolt embedded in the fireplace mantle. When she saw the dwarf who’d fired it, balanced on the trellis outside her window, she snarled like a beast and rushed for him. Thankfully, she wasn’t fast enough. 

The air crackled violently, the dwarf ignited electric blue, and it was over nearly as soon as it began. 

There could be others. Hawke finished her sprint to the window, not bothering to consider the possibility of further fired shots, and watched several retreating shadows through the broken glass pane.

All dwarves, from the brief look she’d managed. Had she done something to piss off the Carta on top of everything else?

She huffed. Who was she kidding? Of course they were after her. Why would she have a moment’s peace?

Hawke frowned and stooped to extract a slip of paper from the glass shards on her floor.

> _You will find Malcolm Hawke’s heir in Hightown. By the grand stairs to the keep. The home will be well defended, but do not spill Hawke’s blood. Use the poison if capture proves difficult. If you have to kill anyone else, do it quietly._
> 
> _And don’t go near the young dwarf. He sees things.  
> _

_If you have to kill anyone else._ Hawke stuffed the note in her coin purse with shaking hands, staring at the crossbow bolt.

”Marian?” Justice had retreated, but Anders’ voice still held a fraction of the spirit’s telltale deeper timbre. “What is it?”

”We need to talk to Varric.” she growled, “ _Now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note is a codex entry from Legacy. Technically the one you get if Hawke’s sibling died in the Deep Roads, but I think it makes sense the dwarves sent after each sibling would have different notes.
> 
> I head canon that the reason Leandra treats Hawke differently than the twins is partially due to Hawke being the “reason” she had to leave Kirkwall originally. Completely unfair, and I don’t know if Leandra ever realizes she’s doing it.
> 
> I also found Leandra’s note for the first time after playing this mission and had to take a minute to process that. Poor Hawke.
> 
> Unfortunately, Hawke herself doesn’t get that minute.


	2. Too Helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand of course as soon as I write something with Legacy taking place in Act 2 I find something confirming it’s meant to be in Act 3 (granted, it’s a footnote on the wiki leading to a dead page). Still keeping this where it is for my personal timeline, mostly because 1) I love the buildup of drama with this quest order and 2) Anders in Legacy sounds much closer to his Act 2 self than Act 3. 
> 
> Onward!

At first, the expedition to the Vimmark Mountains was a welcome distraction. Hawke didn't quite understand how or why Bethany had been granted leave from the Circle to join them, or why Meredith had only required a templar escort until the city gates, but she wasn't about to question it. That said, she suspected the leeway was a combination of rewarding what the templars considered _good_ behavior out of Beth and an expectation that Hawke wouldn't reveal just how easily the Carta had broken into the Circle. Besides, the templars had made a point of showing their group Bethany's brightly glowing phylactery before leaving them to their task. Even if she could convince her to run, they would never get far.

Seeing her baby sister in Circle robes again stung, but at least that particular misjudgment hadn't cost Bethany her life. Yet.

It had been beyond difficult letting her out of the desperately tight hug Hawke greeted her with, but she could take comfort in having her close for the next few days. If it wasn't for the death threat hanging over their heads, the _targeted_ death threat rather, this would have seemed like any day gathering coin for the Deep Roads three years prior. 

She had thought the assassins--kidnappers?--would be the worst of it. Then Larius had shown up.

Larius, who she'd nearly killed on sight with how closely he resembled a shambling darkspawn.

Larius, the Warden who had originally come to the Deep Roads to die.

Larius, whose memories prompted Anders' all-too-casual explanation that he would eventually share the tainted ex-Commander's fate.

Thirty years to live. The thought had sunk through her core, but she plastered a smile on her face and moved along. After all, thirty years was wildly optimistic given the pair of them had a hand in every major controversy in Kirkwall. What was the point bemoaning the loss of their twilight years together when they would be lucky to survive one moment to the next? Thirty years. Hawke had scoffed. They would be lucky to have three.

Hearing her father's disembodied voice hours after Anders' revelation did nothing to ease her mind and everything to remind her of what she'd lost. 

Father, Mother, Carver. Maker, Carver hadn't even _existed_ when Father sealed away those demons, and he was already dead. Flash in the pan, blink of an eye, gone at eighteen.

Just her and Bethany left a few short decades later, and Hawke had dragged her to a hole in the ground to fight insane dwarves and slavering darkspawn.

_And you'll be all alone._

If she threw herself harder at the obstacles they faced as they traveled deeper into the prison, none of the others faulted her aloud. She rationalized her recklessness easily, with hardly a thought wasted on herself. Varric, Bethany, and Anders all fought at a distance, after all. It made sense for the person with a shiny new greatsword to charge in first. Better her than them.

Always better if it were her.

Everything seemed engineered to break Hawke, but it wasn’t her who broke. It was Anders.

* * *

Hawke woke with her pulse hammering in her ears and echoes of her own faded screams bouncing in her skull. Her mouth tasted metallic from more than the coppery tinge of blood. 

Her own blood. _Maker_ , let it be her own blood.

She struggled to rise, and Bethany guided her up to sit. “It’s all right,” Beth murmured, “We’re all fine. Take a moment for yourself.”

“A moment? I...” Hawke swallowed, trying to clear the joint pangs of a numb tongue and faintly buzzing teeth.

“You took a nasty shock,” Bethany confirmed as she sent a small tendril of healing magic into Hawke’s chest, “Chain lightning hit you first, so you got the brunt of it.” She released her spell and squeezed Hawke’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

Hawke’s head was too dull for subtlety. “It doesn’t matter.”

Bethany sighed. “Mer...”

“Where’s Anders?”

Something adjacent to irritation passed behind Bethany’s eyes, but she shrugged and pointed over her shoulder. “With Varric, getting a mild lecture on not letting... _that_...happen again.”

“He couldn’t help—”

“I know,” Beth interrupted, “But if this...Corypheus is in his head, it’s bound to grow worse the closer we come. We can’t turn back, and we can’t afford another mistake.”

She was right, of course. Bethany was always the levelheaded one when things went wrong. At some point, Hawke supposed, constant fear became background noise. Hawke nodded stiffly.

“I’ll talk to him.” 

Before Bethany could protest again, Hawke rose unsteadily to her feet. Her head swiveled until she found Anders and Varric sitting together against a pillar of stone, Anders' head crushed between his own clenched hands and Varric leaning against the wall. A pair of broken crossbow bolts lay discarded in the dirt, and the twin splashes of rust-red on Anders' nearest thigh made it obvious where they'd recently been embedded. Near enough to nick major arteries without immediately bleeding him out.

The last bit of the fight came back to her then. Bethany had tried to hold Anders down with a gravitic ring while Varric fired enough bolts to keep him distracted. Hawke had charged. She should have gone for a near-lethal blow to force Anders back to himself, as Varric ultimately had, but convinced herself a pommel strike would be enough. It _had_ to be enough. If it wasn't...

_You'll be all alone._

Better her than him.

Varric noticed her approach first. He peeled himself from the wall he propped against and headed back toward Bethany, stopping only to squeeze Hawke's forearm as he passed. She smiled weakly, unsure whether to take the gesture as caution, reassurance, or worry. Knowing Varric, it was likely a mix of all three. She sighed and turned back to her goal.

“Anders.”

She was close enough to see his shoulders tense further, but he otherwise didn’t move. Determined to blame himself, as he always did. Hawke shook her head and knelt in front of him, delicately as she could manage wearing full armor.

 _Nearly_ full, she amended; a brittle web of charred metal spread over her chest and rendered the piece next to useless. Visual evidence of what had happened would make this harder. Fantastic.

“Anders, _please_. Just...look at me, at least?”

He finally looked up then, stricken as he took in the sight of her. He reached up and carefully brushed a thumb down the corner of her mouth. Both of them winced when it came away red, but Hawke recovered first with a tight smile.

“Must have bit my tongue,” she said with a shrug, “You or Beth took care of anything more serious.”

"Yes," Anders agreed stiffly, "Bethany took care of all the damage I caused."

"First of all, _you_ weren't the one attacking." Hawke took his hand. "And I don't even blame Justice. Not really. It's not as if either of you were truly in control."

Anders scoffed. " _That's_ encouraging. You've certainly never seen either of us lose control before." He tried to pull away. Hawke held fast.

"I helped you that time too," she reminded him, "And I'll do it a thousand more times, if necessary." She laughed weakly. "Although I have to say, twice in three years isn't the worst record."

"Trying to hurt you _once_ is one time too many."

Hawke flicked her damaged chestplate. "I'm still not letting you take credit for this one."

"And the confrontation with Alrik?"

"Justice, not you." 

"You can't keep making excuses for me." Anders shook his head in clear exasperation. "Me, him, either of us. You really should--"

"If this is another appeal to find someone with less _ugliness_ ," She punctuated the word with an eye roll, "you can go ahead and stop talking."

Anders laughed uneasily. "Maybe that's not enough. Maybe the three of you should leave m--"

Hawke's blood froze as she cut him off with a frantic kiss. 

_You'll be all alone._

Somehow, she managed to arrange her face in a mask of calm before pulling back.

"I get the sense this Corypheus is more of a four-person job, sweetheart," she chided softly. When he managed a shaking smile in answer, she returned a grin. "Now, what do you say we kick this demon's ass and come back home for a week-long nap?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Narrator: They do not get that week-long nap.
> 
> I'm guessing the setting of the final installment of this fic won't come as much of a surprise!


End file.
